


썸타

by Oienel



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: In the busy world of fashion shows, two wandering souls meet backstage. Not ready to love, yet yearning for it. Not yet lovers, but no longer friends, taking first tentative steps toward their life together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry, I haven't learned yet how to write summaries. It was inspired by 썸타 sung by Chen and Heize and it's music video. It's basically the music video from her point of view, and what would have happened later.  
> It was first posted on tumblr, as a chaptered work.

Show day is always the worst. No matter how well you know the concept, how long you have been preparing, there will always be fuckups along the way. Your job is to minimize the probability of their occurrence. You are good at your job, good enough to be a part of this project, but you are not naïve enough to believe that you will emerge without a scratch.

But you will emerge victorious.

At least you tell yourself that, when you are sitting in the taxi, checking your phone every thirty seconds. You are late. It’s not your fault, but you are so late, that you can’t think straight, the image of totally destroyed show in your mind.

At the last minute there was a change in one outfit and you had to go back to the atelier to retrieve the needed jacket, and now you are so much behind your schedule that you feel like you are going to throw up. You hate situations like that. You are perfectionist. Your attention to details got you the job, and now you are struggling, just because one piece in your perfect puzzle got changed.

You finally arrive, pay the cabbie, and run to the entrance, with the hanger and the said garment hanging on it. You can hear your own steps, even if you wore the sport shoes. Today you will be running around, of course you have comfortable running shoes on, and not heels.

You find yourself in a loft, already filled with people, everything buzzing nervously, but excitedly. People, sounds, interior, everything is oozing anxiety. Even lights on the brick walls flicker restlessly. The room is being illuminated by camera flash again and again, and you unexpectedly feel your pulse calming down.

You are here, you know the ordeal. You will make it.

Under the opposite wall the models are getting their makeup and hair done. You can hear their excited chatter. You are not jealous, you will get to hear every juicy gossip. Being the head dresser has its advantages. You see the group of your assistants and you walk quickly to them.

They greet you hurriedly and you give them the jacket, throwing your own things on the nearby chair. You know that the youngest will get it to the locker area. You don’t have time for that, not when designer calls for you.

It’s time for a final fitting, and both you and head seamstress go over to the designer to attend him. You are at your seventh outfit (sixty two more to go) when familiar voice calls the designer. You don’t check who came, because you don’t have to. Your hands are straightening the lapels of model’s jacket and you eye him meticulously, even when you can feel the presence of the back show runner behind you. Amazing biceps and cute smile. It’s your second time working with him and the rehearsal was a pleasure, his easy-going personality making everything run more smoothly.

You hope that this time he will manage to make the show as smooth as last time.

You are not happy with the knot on the shoes of 7th outfit and you crouch to make it over. You feel uneasy as if somebody was observing you, and you shoot a discreet glance behind you: there he is, Jongdae was his name? Standing, quite frozen, with his headset on and the notes in hand. He bites his lower lip, and you are absolutely smitten, when he makes a little circle and flies away.

You can feel the butterflies in your stomach, they are beginning to move around, curiously, awkwardly, as if not sure if they will be allowed to fly.

*

The first 40 outfits are done, and you and few of your assistants go back to your station to get next part of garments, while the rest help models to take already checked clothes off. You are not even sure why you are doing the last fitting now, it should have been done earlier, but you are not the one running this thing, so you just nod and try your best.

When you march to get the hangers, you see Jongdae talking to the lighting guys and he is smiling, and you find his smile adorable. But you don’t have time to dwell on that, when you need to check 29 more outfits. But you can feel the stare on the back of your head, and once again you steal a quick glance back – just in time to see him getting hit in the arm. You don’t know why are you so sure, but you just know that he was too busy looking at you, and he wasn’t listening to public relations’ rep.

The butterflies start to take off shyly.

*

Outfits are approved and you move back to your station, to run the premade photos of the models to prepare everything in order. This will make the show easier. You notice that one of the photos has different necklace from the one that you have just put on the model, so you take a quick gulp of water and grab the photos to check them again.

Only when you start to move you notice that the certain guy with the headset around his neck was standing right behind you, with open bottle of water tipped slightly toward you. The butterflies already flying make a tight turn in your stomach. Maybe you are imagining, but you think that the water was meant for you. You squeeze the bottle in your hand, looking at it with contempt. You could have gotten water from Jongdae.

He looks so cute when he tries to cover his embarrassment at the failed attempt of giving you water. So cute that you feel guilty for putting him in that position.

*

You were right, the necklace was wrong. You quickly change it and give the model a once-over. You will be doing this for the rest of the day. Constantly checking if everything is in place. The hairdresser pushes you delicately away to fix model’s hair once again.

You are not the only one constantly checking if everything is in place.

And you are thrilled that Jongdae is constantly checking you out. But when he runs to help you with the jackets you need to move to the hanger closer to the runway, you need to remind him that he probably has something else to do. It hurts you to see his smile fall, but you are at work, you cannot fool around with him.

_Even if you want to._

You feel his eyes on your back as you walk away, and suddenly you feel like you are playing hard to get. But you know that if he looks somewhere else, you will get antsy.

You may have or may have not swayed your hips more pointedly while walking away.

*

You move the hangers onto new rack and you notice that the bottom of the trench coat is brushing the floor. And your heart nearly stops, it cannot touch the floor. Your hands find the levers and you turn them to slacken the hold and to rise the up bar higher, but before you can grab the bar, it’s already going up.

You bite back your smile, when you notice the hands and sandy sleeves.

He has beautiful hands.

The already flying butterflies have made an perfect Cuban Eight in your stomach. You smile at him in thanks and go off, because the time is running out, and you can’t spend it flirting with him.

But you keep thinking of him, even as you walk away.

*

You bring the right shoes to the model getting her makeup done. You spring off right away to deliver the jackets. Jongdae is in your way, again. The butterflies are trying to pull off the Split S, but you can’t focus enough on their tries, when the guy in front of you is speaking.

His voice is deep, and manly, and sure, and velvety, and you find yourself engulfed in it, and you really, really want to stand here and just listen to him. But he is pushing a hanger into your hand and explaining how the designer changed his mind again and that Minzy is going to wear this, and you can only nod, when the reality comes back to you. You are back on your way, after a quick ‘thank you’ thrown his way.

You see his victory pose in the mirror on the opposite wall.

The butterflies did the Split S.

*

You are crouching, checking the shoes on the model who will open the show, when you feel a hand on your back and your heart does a somersault before you realize that Jongdae is standing few meters from you, and the designer is talking to you. You nod along his words, not happy that Jongdae is looking away, frown on his face. It’s like you know that he likes you, but suddenly you don’t know anymore.

It’s ambiguous, and you try to busy yourself with preparing the models.

*

It’s just like conveyor belt. Makeup artists touch up the face, hairdressers touch up the hair, dressers check out the outfit and the model is out of the doors, Jongdae speaking commands into his mic.

You wait for a model to come back from the runway and you help him get out of his previous clothes and into the new outfit. As you straighten up the labels of his jacket, makeup artist is powdering his face, and you run your eyes up and down his body, mind not really registering the exquisite abs you see.

“Do you know what is happening with Jongdae?” Model asks, and you are a little bit too into it, because you just turn around, being really indiscreet. The frown from earlier is on his face and as soon as you start to turn around he looks away, at the next model.

You are flattered that even while working the show, he still has time to monitor you.

You shrug at the model, and send him to the line, and run to the model which just came down from the runway.

Every single butterfly in your stomach is flying now.

*

You did it. The applause is slowly fading away, and designer is back on the backstage. There are thanks and congratulations all over. You clap as well, elated that everything went rather smoothly. Your assistants come to hug you and you squeak with them, the high from the nicely done job making you cheerful.

You see Jongdae holding his thumbs up at you, and finally you don’t hold back your smile, happiness pulling on your lips, and you rise your own thumbs back at him.

Maybe he will ask you out tonight?

*

He doesn’t.

You don’t know anymore. You don’t know whether he will be the first to ask or maybe you should do it? You want to receive love, and you know that he wants to love. Or maybe he doesn’t? You don’t know anymore.

Everybody is getting ready for the after party. You are outside, chatting happily, but your eyes try to find Jongdae in the crowd. He is easy to spot, at least for you, so you quickly notice that he isn’t here.

_Don’t play games with me_

_I want to love_

_You want to receive love_

You excuse yourself and go back inside, in hopes that he will be there.

He is.

He is sitting at the table, or more like laying on it.

You are iffy, not really knowing what to do, but you are sure that he likes you. You are sure that you like him. It’s like you know it, but at the same time you don’t.

But you don’t want to play hard to get anymore, you don’t want to run away anymore, you want him to come to you.

And the best way to that is to come to him.

You walk slowly to him, your steps quiet and cautious. He has his head resting on his arms on the table and you feel tempted to pat his arm, but you don’t. You sit next to him, mimicking his pose, but instead of hiding your face you look at him. His clean haircut, the shell of his ear, the point of his jaw, smooth skin. You want to brush your fingers along the lines you see.

He looks up, surprised and you smile at him brightly. He looks embarrassed, but he slowly reciprocates your smile.

_Are we just friends, but a little closer?_

_No, don’t be mistaken_

_We are more than that_

The butterflies in your stomach emerge victorious.

*

The only certain thing in life is its uncertainty. And just exactly how life is: you can already hear the wedding bells and yet, nothing happens. You sit there together, mostly gossiping in the hushed voices, grilling people you both know. You are sitting close enough to smell his cologne. The table vibrates every time he laughs. His laughter is hushed as well, more movement than sound, cheerfulness oozing from his face.

You are captivated by the curtain of the long lashes and the eyes that disappear when he laughs. Your cheeks hurt from your constant smile, but you can’t subdue it.

It takes grumpy janitor to throw you out of the place and you both find that hilarious. It’s too late to go to the after party and you stand together in front of the building reluctant to go.

His ‘can I walk you home’ finally get both of you moving. You don’t live close, but it doesn’t matter. You are just happy, that he is walking on your side, night warm and bright. It’s the city lights that make it bright. City is still alive, buildings buzzing with the late night excitement, and you walk together in the maze made of lamps, bins, buildings and people, who are savoring the summer night.

Now you don’t talk much. The longer you walk the longer the pauses are, and you find yourself stealing quick glances at his face. More often than not you see him looking back at you. The bubbling happiness in you makes you dizzy and lightheaded, and you can feel the warmth on your cheekbones. You know that corners of his mouth are generally turned upwards, but now you can see how he fights his own reflexes trying to hide teeth, he shows in the bright smile.

It’s as if you were back in the high school, walking home with your first crush. Both of you iffy. Iffy in your movements, iffy in your words, iffy in your feelings.

Iffy to love.

Your hands are brushing and it’s that awkward situation just before one of you decides to grab the other’s hand. Should that person be you? Won’t you be too forward? Shouldn’t it be him? Or maybe he is too shy to do this?

Before either of you can decide to be brave, you reach your building. You don’t know how long you have been walking side by side, and you don’t want to check the time. You stop in front of your front doors and turn around to him. He has hands in his pockets and is shifting on his feet. He looks uncertain and so adorable you feel yourself getting warm once again.

You open your mouth to invite him inside, maybe, but then you close them. Tomorrow in the morning you have fitting for the next show. And it’s already late, and you cannot brush off your work for this. And what if he will consider you needy? Or what if he misunderstands? You live alone and inviting him inside could be considered improper…

Before you can make up your mind he clears his throat and raises his hand in farewell.

“It’s late, I should be going.” His voice is more choked back than it was when you were gossiping. You answer raising up your own hand.

“Yeah, I have work in the morning.” It’s so awkward you are on the verge of tears.

“Right, me too. So… See you around?” He says, his voice and eyes hopeful. You smile at him and wave.

“Yeah, see you around.” You both slowly turn around and you walk to your doors. You open them and look back, to see him few steps away, looking back at you as well. Both of you wave once again and nod, and you go inside.

And just exactly how the life is: neither of you took the other’s phone number.

*

After that you get busy. Not busy enough not to curse yourself every time you think about him. Which is just before you go to sleep, and after you open your eyes in the morning. You are reminded of him every time you walk by yourself, when you take a gulp of water. You think of him, you keep thinking about his voice and awkward laughter, and kitty-like corners of his mouth, and the mole on his eyebrow, you cannot forget his hands, long fingers and narrow, yet wired wrists. You recollect his bow-like legs and slim waist.

You are completely smitten and the butterflies in you grow restless, complaining constantly at the lack of person who makes them fly.

As if you weren’t missing him enough.

You are walking to the rehearsal of your next gig. You spent the last week with the seamstress and designer, helping to choose models and fitting them. By now you know the outfits by heart (unless something gets changed – and you are long enough in this business to know that something will be changed) and you go through them in your head, just for your own sake. This calms you down, and gives you a boost of confidence just before you’ll go to work.

The day is nice and you absentmindedly look at people clothes, thinking how you could improve their outfits. You like the most seeing perfectly matched clothes with accessories screaming sophistication. Like that guy with black pants hugging his legs, thighs displayed impeccably. White-and-yellow nikes go surprisingly well with the white shirt hidden underneath soft looking sweater and grayish jeans jacket. The man bag and the silver ring on his forefinger is a nice touch.

You need to do a double take, because you know those hands. As a matter of fact you know those legs, and those hips, and the face is also familiar. So is broad smile growing on his face.

A smile matching your own.

Jongdae.

You bite your lips trying to subdue the sudden happiness bubbling in your core, but the butterflies has taken off immediately and you cannot get them back in their confinement. You feel the warmth on your face as both of you keep going in collision course. But before you collide both of you start moving on a slant, until you meet just before the doors.

He opens them for you and you walk inside, checking if he is going after you.

He is.

*

During the meeting he sits next to you. Even if it shouldn’t be like this. He should be sitting with the front show runner and you should be back with the rest of the dressers or maybe next to the seamstress. But no, you are sitting next to each other, and no one is acknowledging that. His constant presence on your side is calming and unnerving. You keep eyeing him in the corner of your eye and you catch him looking at you as well.

If you don’t do something, you are going to explode.

Working is easy. You know how to work. You know how to behave so everything is perfect. Picking clothes and getting models is easy.

Getting your head around your strange relationship with Jongdae is not. It’s like you know his heart, but at the same time you don’t. It’s ambiguous. You and him, have a ‘lil’ something’ but you can even describe what it is.

But since it’s only a rehearsal you don’t have a lot of work. Of course, models gets to wear the clothes, but it’s more for the fitting purposes and you don’t let them walk the runway in them. So when the runway rehearsal starts you don’t really have anything to do, so you watch Jongdae work.

You decide you like him with his headset best. He is so manly barking orders into the mic, but at the same time the way he calls the next model is as adorable as ever. He is pushy, yet bouncy and you feel drawn to him.

There is something wrong with lighting, so the show runners decide to make a short break to give technicians time to fix it, and before you know it, you grab a bottle of water and walk his way, ready to offer it to him.

But just the way life is, before you reach him, he takes his own bottle from the sill behind him and absentmindedly takes a sip. You freeze midstep and now you know how he felt those few weeks ago, when he tried to offer it to you. To your embarrassment in this second his eyes fall on you and you see the exact moment, when he spots the water in your hand.

You have to admit he behaved way better than you did last time, because he smiles at you and points at the water in your hand and then on his own chest. You nod shyly, and the toothy smile you get in return wipes your mind. He leaves his notes on the sill and comes to you, shelling the bottle out of your fingers.

“Thank you, I was thinking that I should get myself another bottle.” His eyes search your face, when he speaks, and you find yourself unable to answer. He is standing so close, and his voice is marvelous, and you can feel his cologne. You want to raise your hand and grab the lapel of his jacket, or maybe brush your fingers across his perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

You clear your throat and nod, acknowledging his words, and you just hurry away, escaping your own thoughts. You can see in the mirror that he looks after you confused, the hand which is holding your water comes up, and he scratches his head with the smallest finger.

*

You have sent most of your assistants home, but you are still at the rehearsal, in case designer needs you.

You know that it’s unlikely, but you keep telling yourself that, not wanting to admit that you stick around waiting for Jongdae. Lights are acting out again, and the back show runner is, well, running around, visibly flustered. He is so busy, that he doesn’t acknowledges you as he hurries past you to the technician. You try not to take that to yourself, but it’s hard not to.

You follow him around with your eyes, sitting on the table, some papers probably crumbling under your butt. His hair is tousled, collar of his jacket partially standing – from his constant taking off and putting on the headset. You like him disheveled like that, but you still want to smoothen it all out.

You finally get the chance, when designer is talking to the models, and Jongdae slumps on the chair, bottle from you in his hand. You walk to him, and as sure as ever, as if he was one of your models, you flatten his hair (even if it’s not your usual job), and fold his collar, hands sliding down the lapels.

Only when you notice how still he is, you look up at his face, embarrassment once again flooding your synapses. He looks surprised, and you curse yourself in your mind. He is _not_ one of your models.

“I’m sorry, it’s an occupational quirk, don’t mind me.” You say quickly, snapping your hands back and up, as if you were trying to show him, that you are not going to touch him again. But you immediately miss the texture of jeans under your fingers. And heat of his body beneath.

His answer is a throaty laugh. His free hand comes up to grab your own and suddenly all the butterflies in your stomach lose their sense of direction and they are colliding with each other adding to the supernova happening in your gut.

His hand is bigger than yours, calloused and firm, and dry, and you find yourself wanting to give him a hand cream. But the notion that you are finally holding hands is slowly penetrating your mind and you want to copy his victory pose from few weeks before, when he gave you a hanger.

You feel like a winner.

“Thank you. Do I look good enough, now?”

_Oh, god, you look absolutely stunning._

You are thankful that for once your mouth hasn’t betrayed you and kept that to itself.

“Passable.” You answer, and you are surprised at how collected your voice sounds. He sends you a half smile, while his thumb caresses the top of your hand.

You just stay like that: you standing in front of him, your knees nearly brushing his, him sitting with bottle of water in one hand and your own hand in the other. He is smiling at you brightly, his thumb drawing shapes into your skin.

Once again you are dizzy, lightheaded, and victorious.

*

Do you know the moments in which your world stops? The moments, when everything around you happens in slow motion, sounds dying away, surroundings getting blurry. The moments when you hear your own blood pulsing in your ears,  when single touch engraves itself into your memory?

Is it a heart he is drawing onto your skin? Is it?

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can only see his eyes looking at you, and the shy, but playful, smile that stretches his lips.

Your bubble is burst when you hear somebody calling Jongdae’s name. You snap your hand back in panic, and he is left with his hand up in the air – looking more than awkward. He masks his awkwardness by standing up, and even as he walks back to his position, you can feel his lingering stare on your back. This time you don’t look around, skin tingling where he touched you.

The last runway try finally gives  expected results, and designer calls it a day. The place is suddenly filled with chatter and laziness of people who know that did a good job. You can see groups of people gathering to go out for drinks, and you catch some models calling Jongdae. Your pulse quickens, and you panic. You are lingering near the exit, and you don’t know what you will do if he agrees to go with them.

You are contemplating calling him, and you take a step forward and open your mouth, when you see him bowing politely to the group, head shaking. Cacophony of whines reaches your ears, and you read his lips: ‘next time’.

You try to bite back your smile, when he turns and his gaze falls on you, and he makes his way to you. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing the words you want to say to him. The butterflies in your gut are stilled, waiting for what is going to happen next.

“Are you hun…” “Would you like to eat…”

You start speaking at the same time, and hearing the other speak both of you fall into silence. It’s awkward until Jongdae starts to laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love…” “Yeah, I am…”

Once again you speak up in unison. This time both of you laugh, and he shows you to go first. You shake your head, but you start walking, checking if he is going after you.

He is.

He surges forward to open the door for you, and even if it’s more hassle than it’s worth, that gesture is still gratyfing.

“There is a nice stir-fry place not far from here?” You say as you emerge from the building, and once again you look back at him. He falls in step with you.

“Lead the way.” He answers smiling, and you can’t stop the smile pulling on your lips. Butterflies are doing some serious acrobatic stunts in your gut and you wonder if you’ll be able to stomach anything.

You love walking next to him. Especially when he starts talking, his sense of humor matching yours. It’s nice and comfortable, and you remember the last time (and the first) you were walking together. You recall how your hands were brushing and how much you wanted to hold his hand, and you look discreetly down, between you, where your hands are swinging mere millimeters from each other. You notice how his other hand is in his pocket and you wonder, if he is also trying to grab your hand.

Unfortunately you are not brave enough to just grab his hand, even if it pisses you off. Life would be easier if you just did it, but no. But you go for a next best thing, and your fingers shyly slide around his arm, to rest on the inside part of his elbow. You walked like this even with guys who weren’t romantically interested in you, so you feel comfortable enough to try it.

Jongdae reacts immediately, his other hand coming up to fix your grip on his arm, making it more present, and bringing you closer to him. He doesn’t acknowledges it more than that, his hands sliding into his pockets, but you are just thrilled.  And a quick glance at his face tells you that he is enjoying this as much as you, judging from happy wrinkles formed around his eyes.

The place is full, but you manage to get a table for yourselves. You go for the chicken noodle stir-fry and Jongdae takes Korean stir-fry with hagfish.

He doesn’t stop talking the whole time you wait for your order. There are a lot of jokes, and he usually goes for self depreciating jokes, but find yourself laughing the whole time. A glint in his eyes tells you that he is proud to be able to make you laugh, but you start to think that his oral flood is a nervous reaction, and you want to soothe him.

When your order is called he nearly trips over the chair and you pretend not to see it. His awkward, boyish side is probably the one you like the most. But you can’t say that you don’t like the gentleman side that makes him bring you your food. With your chin resting on your hand you observe as he goes to retrieve your meal, carrot-like frame: broad shoulders and narrow waist, suddenly making you remember how manly he can be. You don’t realize that you are gazing at him quite sheepishly, until he sends you satisfied grin across the place.

You are more flustered about that than you want to admit, so when he places your dish in front of you and sits down with his own food, you try to stir your mind back onto safe waters.

“Hagfish?” You prompt him looking at the pieces of the fish on his plate.

“Yes, do you want to try?” He says, pushing the dish towards you. You quite eagerly dig into it and Jongdae continues as you take a bite. “Koreans believe that the hagfish…”

You are chewing, the taste passable, but nothing you couldn’t live without. It takes you a second before you notice that he stopped his sentence midway and you look up at him. He is sporting interesting shade of pink.

“Are you ok?” You ask not really knowing what has just happened.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” He sputters, still clearly awkward. “Koreans believe that hagfish is good for your body.”

“Really?” You ask not knowing where the problem is and trying to make him feel more comfortable. “Well, it’s a fish so it should be good for you.”

He agrees and goes on to gossip about the model you were working with last time around.

Once again he asks you if he can walk you home, and this time your place is definitely closer, so you know that you need to work more quickly than last time. But after few steps, Jongdae confidently grabs your hand and your fingers tangle together quite naturally. Neither of you acknowledges that, but you have to keep yourself from squeaking.

His hand is warm, but not warm enough to explain the heat your body produces at the fact that you are holding hands while walking to your place. Being at this stage of the relationship thrills you, but at the same time the familiar question pops into your mind: right you have a ‘lil’ something’, but what it is. How to call it?

You suddenly realize that your butterflies are whining slightly at your entwined fingers, and you realize that you preferred walking with him with your hand on his arm, because you were closer to his body. But if he hugged you…

You are thankful that he is constantly talking, because your mind is busy trying to find the plan that would lead to him throwing his arm around you.

You spot your chance half kilometer away from your place. You know you don’t have a lot of time, so you don’t let your consciousness talk you out of it. Just when you are passing by the group of rowdy students, you feint a slip, and you stumble toward Jongdae. You feel like an idiot for a millisecond, but he reacts immediately, your hero. He lets go of your hand, to slip his arm around your waist and he brings you against his side, to make sure you are not going to fall.

Once again you are victorious.

“Are you ok?” His face to close for you to feel at peace.

“Yeah, sorry.” You answer, but neither of you makes a move to separate.  You notice that you have a death grip on the back of his jacket, and you soften it, only to rest your hand on his back. It’s only fair, since he has his arm around you.

And he doesn’t mind, if the sudden grin is something to go by.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d face plant the sidewalk.” He stats, and you feel his breath on your face. Sassy voice in the back of your head retorts that if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t try to stumble at all.

But you just smile, and rest your other hand on his chest and you exaggerate the smitten sigh.

“My hero!”

He laughs and sets off once again. He still has his arm around you, and you still have your hand on Jongdae’s back, but you slide it on his waist, for an easier support. Your mission was a complete success and you want to pat yourself on the back. Far too quickly for your liking you reach your place. He stops, and you follow his suit, and you turn to him, his arm still around you (which pleases the hell out of your butterflies).

The awkwardness is back. It’s a time to say goodbye or to invite him in? Won’t it be too fast? But you are an adult for gods’ sake, you don’t have to wait? Or should you?

He clears his throat, and by now you know he is going to speak, so you raise your eyes at him.

“Stir-fry place was really good and it was lovely eating there with you.” You cannot stop the bright smile spreading your lips.

“Next time you should show me what you like.” You are a little flabbergasted when his ears go red. He clears his throat again.

“Let’s do that. But now you should get going, I heard that you have a final fitting tomorrow in the morning.” Once again you are smitten by the fact he is interested enough to collect such information. That gives you a courage: you are not ready to kiss him, but you can do the next best thing, and just as your arm falls from his side (his arm following the suit, and you miss Jongdae’s hand on your waist the moment he lets you go), you peck his cheek and scoot back.

You smile shyly at him, but you don’t wait to see his reaction, you just turn to your doors.

You see familiar victory pose reflecting in the door’s glass. But when you open the doors and turn around to wave to him, he is as collected as if he was at work.

The butterflies are doing a victory dance as you walk to your apartment, and as you open the door, and as you take your shoes off and throw your bag on the counter. They are still dancing as you enter the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

They stop, when you realize that once again you didn’t take his phone number.

*

Your hand hurts. It pulses and you can feel it getting warm.

Maybe you shouldn’t have hit the table to give an outlet to your frustration. Fighting inanimate objects won’t help you. And you will surely lose the fight, just like you have lost a second ago. It’s only your fault that you have yet again forgotten to take his number.

But at the same time doubt creeps into your heart. He would have asked you for your number if he wanted to. If he cared. You held hands? Duh, you walked hugged! He shouldn’t be too shy to ask you for your number. Not anymore.

Your hand still hurts and you try to massage the pain out with your other hand’s thumb. This day could have ended so nice. Why is it turning like that?

There is a knock on your doors and your bell rings. _Great_ , as if you didn’t have enough problems. You don’t like when somebody both knock and rings. Why bother knocking when you see the bell, why ringing when you have already knocked? Give it a time, and then try anew.

You just want your day to end. This way not only you will be able to forget yourself for not taking his number, but going to sleep will help calm your mind on the subject why he didn’t ask for your number, either. And finally going to sleep will bring you closer to seeing him again. Sleep – best time machine you have at hand.

So you don’t even bother looking through peephole to check who is on the other side of the doors (your mother probably wakes up covered in sweat) and just yank them open.

The angry and rude monologue dies on your lips when you find all embarrassed Jongdae on your threshold. He exhales shakily, but with relief as soon as he sees you.

“Oh, God, I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to knock to one of your neighbors at this hour, but…” He is babbling. He is clearly babbling and your bad mood is instantly gone, happiness once again bubbling in your core. He takes an exactly shakily inhale and runs a slightly trembling hand through his hair. “Anyway, I forgot to ask you for your phone number. I mean, would you give me your phone number?”

The butterflies in your gut are starting to get pretty good at victory dances with all the practice that they get.

You are too lost in the feelings of victory that before you pull yourself enough to speak, his shoulders sag.

“Oh, alright. I’m sorry, for intruding, then, I will…”

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?” You ask, cutting him midsentence. He looks surprised as if you pulled a carpet from under him, and it takes him a minute for your words to get to him. During this time you stand in your open doors shifting slightly on your feet. You know his answer, even before he voices it. You can read it from his body language, as he relaxes into his boyish self.

“That would be really nice, actually.”

You back up, to give him a room to enter, wondering when you’ll get to the stage when this kind of sentence would end up with the other one groaning in how cheesy that sounds.

But right now, it’s perfect, because that means he is stepping inside your apartment.

You notice how he eyes his surrounding checking the hanger and your shoes laying askew on the floor. He takes in your bag on the counter, and your keys next to it, and you are embarrassed at the state your hall looks, until you realize that he was probably checking if you are alone.

You can feel your cheeks heat up and you close the door, as he bends down to take off his shoes.

You may have or may have not checked out his ass.

Who are you kidding? Which girl wouldn’t grab a chance like that? He puts his shoes away, fixing yours as well and straightens up. He looks at you and you are minutely lost in his eyes. But at least this time, you don’t put off your answer long enough for him to grow restless. Before your mind can talk you out of it, your fingers slide in his hand, and he reacts immediately and so naturally that your heart swells, as he tangles his fingers with yours.

You didn’t have time to forget how his hand feels in yours: warm, bigger, manly,  and dry.

You take him to the kitchen, only few steps to walk. He sits down at the table, on the one of two chair and you go to put the water on.

“So coffee? Or is it too late for coffee?” You ask reaching for the cups.

“It wouldn’t be too late if I had to pull an all-nighter.” There is a loud clatter when one of the cups hits the sink. It must have slipped your hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks urgently and you turn around to see him standing up already, concern on his face.

“Yes, don’t worry. I wasn’t careful enough.” _Or more like you were picturing pulling an all-nighter with him._

You turn around, before your burning cheeks can give you away.

“So tea?” You ask, relieved that your voice is even.

“Yes, please.” Is it a regret you hear?

You prepare the cups and turn around to him. He moved so he is sitting sideward to the table, body turned your way. One of his hands is playing with his phone and you smile, and reach your hand up.

He raises his eyebrows at you, in a clear question.

“Give me your phone.” He smiles back at you, clearly getting the idea, because he unlocks his phone and opens the contacts list. You take it from him, your fingers brushing and it reminds you about one more thing. But first you put in your number and give the phone back to him. He hits the dial button and you wait for the buzz of your own phone. It comes, and Jongdae hangs up and starts to put you in his contacts.

“Will be back in the minute.” You inform him, as the water starts to shimmer. You go to your bathroom, and as you come back Jongdae is still sitting, his phone on the table. He eyes curiously your small kitchen and you take in his beautiful frame.

Water is boiling, so you enter the room and throw Jongdae a tube of cream.

“You have awfully dry hands.” You say and you hear the laughter behind you when you pour the water into the cups. When you put in front of him a steaming cup, he is rubbing the cream into his hands, and the stare he shots you is playful.

You don’t bother checking the hour as you sit together. It’s comfortable, drinking tea with him in the semidark kitchen, talking about all and nothing, this type of conversation you will remember, while you won’t remember the words that have been spoken. It’s an immensely freeing experience, when you feel like you can shed your guards, and he won’t judge you for being open.

“I should get going.” He finally says and you instinctively check the hour. Right, you should be getting up in around three hours. But he doesn’t look as if wants to go. And you are also reluctant to walk him to your doors. But you are an adult and with a sigh you stand up, and clean the table. He is still sitting when you walk past him to the doors, and only when you halt between the rooms, one leg in the kitchen the other in the hall, he gets up and slowly approaches you, and stops just in front of you, his legs also in both rooms.

“Thank you for the tea.” He says in the hushed tone. His voice is lower, deeper, than it was a moment ago, and you lick your lips, feeling how dry they suddenly gotten. The intent, which his eyes follow your tongue with, makes your heart race.

He is so close, he is so close that you hear his breath and you can smell his cologne (you are sure as hell that you are slowly getting addicted to this scent), and you see how his chest raises with every breath. Your own chest heaves as you try to calm yourself down. Suddenly his face is way closer than it was just a second ago and that sends your mind into panic mode. _Is he going to kiss you? Are you going to allow that? Should you allow that? His lips look so soft, and those turned up corners, and the shape, you’d like to run your finger around his lips, feel the lines of his mouth, and better you’d love to kiss his lips. But isn’t it still too early? What if he wants something more than that. Of course, he wants, you also want that, but now? Do you want to sleep with him now? Do you have time? You don’t have time, you are going to work in few hours. Will you be able to tell him no? Will you want to tell him no after getting a taste of his lips?_

Your breath is speeding, when he slowly bends to you, his eyes searching your face for an answer. You can feel your heart thumping madly in your chest and you are giving up under pressure. Even as you yell at yourself in your head, and the butterflies in your gut are fluttering angrily, you duck your head and walk into the hall.

You have to admit that you are impressed, since Jongdae follows you immediately, as if nothing happened.

You feel like you are going to throw up, and you are not sure if that was a right decision, but Jongdae puts on his shoes and doesn’t bring up the subject. As he straightens up, he throws a joke about a designer you both worked with, and you laugh, thankfulness flooding your mind.

“Can I call you?” He asks as he opens the door.

“You should, that’s why I gave you my number.”

*

The next day you are exhausted. Of course you are exhausted, you were sitting with Jongdae in your small, but cozy kitchen to the wee hours of the night.  And even after that you couldn’t just go to sleep, turning around in your bed remembering how you denied him a kiss. How you denied it yourself.

But you finally get yourself, your mind and your butterflies, to agree that was a right decision. If you weren’t ready, then you weren’t ready, there is nothing more to that. If he really wants to kiss you, he will wait.

And the fruit, which you have to work for, is sweeter. Or something along those lines.

The only thing that still makes you unhappy about that night is the fact that you were debating with yourself so long, that your alarm went off.

Your assistants pretty quickly notice how grumpy you are and they become wary of you, which pisses you off even more. Are you a dangerous predator for them to behave that way? The fitting is definitely not going smoothly, you have problems with remembering outfits you were able to recall perfectly just a night before, and if it wasn’t for the girls it would have taken even longer. Gratefulness seeps through your anger and at the end of the fitting you are able to thank them (after youngest came in with a double espresso for you).

The show is in two days and you know that you need to regenerate yesterday night now, otherwise you will fuck up your work. You are free by midday and you decide to indulge yourself, and you hail a taxi. You are sleepy and your only desire is to reach your bed, but sudden thought makes you grab your bag and search urgently for your phone.

You find it and you see that Jongdae was calling you. There is no message, only a call from two hours earlier. You don’t want to play this stupid ‘hard to get’ game and you call him immediately. It takes him two signals to pick up, during which you look outside the cab window, counting the buildings passing by.

“Hello?” His voice is enough to get your mood up. It’s steady, yet soft, and just distinctively his.

“Hi, Jongdae, you called me, but I was in the middle of the fitting, and…” For a moment you are scared that he doesn’t know who is calling, because you don’t hear anything in your speaker. “Was it important?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

How can he be so confident to just say that? And so calmly on top of that? You would probably die of the embarrassment or you’d drown in your own tears while trying to say that. Even if it’s true.

“You did?” _Oh, god, you are swooning._ And you can hear it in your voice, but you can’t bring yourself to care, you just want to hear him say that again. You don’t even feel yourself blushing when you notice that the cabbie is giving you a weird stare in the mirror. It all does not matter. Not when Jongdae is speaking again, glee clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I did. How was your fitting?” It’s scary how fast you became used to talking to him, and by know the conversations you two have is comfortable and easy, and you find yourself wanting to see him. It could be in your kitchen again, with a cup of hot beverage in your hand, just long hours of simple discussion.

You don’t hang up while paying the driver, and you don’t do it while getting ready for bed. You talk even after you slid under your covers and his voice is lulling you to sleep.

*

You fell asleep.

You fell asleep while talking to Jongdae.

You _fucking_ fell asleep on him!

Your alarm went off, and you woke up to a message from Jongdae: “At least I know you don’t snore.”

Nothing more. It made you scream with embarrassment in your bed, and you had to will yourself out of the sheets, so you could prepare yourself for the dress rehearsal.

Ride to the venue was more straining that usual. Dress rehearsals are always tiring, but this time you were riding there, without running through the outfits the previous day, and you were riding there knowing well that you are going to find yourself face to face with Jongdae. Which obviously thrills you, but you don’t know if you are going to leave down the embarrassment.

At the venue, to your immense relief, you discover that he has yet to arrive and you bury yourself in the premade photos, trying to remember garments arrangement. You emerge from your station only when designer calls for the meeting, and you walk to the center of the room. You were not quick enough to gather with the rest, so you stand a little farther from your usual place, but you can hear everything, so you don’t see it as a problem. It’s not like something important is going to be said.

But you are still listening intently, because that’s proper. That is until something heavy falls on your shoulder and you jump slightly.

“Man, I should have followed your suit yesterday.” You smile and just like that you are not embarrassed anymore. One sentence was enough to tell you that he is not mad or anything. Jongdae is standing behind you, his forehead on your shoulder. You are suddenly happy that you are standing at the back of the crowd, so he can do that, and you won’t be seen, since people in front of you shield you from the unwanted glances.

“You need to learn to be a responsible adult.” You don’t know what he was doing yesterday. it doesn’t matter. You can joke around, knowing that he is tired, and he probably didn’t sleep enough.

“I don’t want to…” He whines softly, and you can feel his breath on your neck. Other than that (and his forehead on your shoulder) he is not touching you, and you feel bold enough to reach behind you to find his arm, and you drape it across your stomach, making him come closer to you. His other arm comes around you on his own volition, and he changes his position, now his chin is resting on your shoulder.

Yup, that’s it, it’s your favorite place from now on.

You don’t get to cherish the feeling for long, because after a minute or so, designer calls for you, and Jongdae immediately steps back, as the crowd searches for you, and you push yourself through gathering to show yourself.

*

You wouldn’t have guessed that working with the guy you like can be so disturbing. Your peace and your usual flow is constantly disturbed – actually every time Jongdae decides to walk past you. Even if he doesn’t touch you his lingering stare is enough to get you hot under your collar. And he touches you more often than not. It’s never a big gesture, it’s more of a little sign that he is next to you. Like a soft tug at your smallest finger, when you stand next to each other, while models get ready for the runway. Or a brush of his hand on your back as he passes by. Or his thigh touching yours when you eat lunch at the same table.

But you were long enough in this field of work to get through the day without any big mishap, but you know that you need to get your shit together before tomorrow, because you need your whole mind on the project. You cannot halfass the show.

Once again you see models trying to ask Jongdae out on drinks and you feel the possessiveness bubbling in your gut, butterflies getting rowdy. But just as you thought he would, Jongdae politely turns them down, and his walk to you is definitely urgent.

And you like it just like that.

This time there are no awkward questions, you just walk out together, and you wonder when the gossips about you will spread. You find that you don’t care.

Not when he slides his hand around you as you walk down the street.

“So what are we eating tonight?” You ask, swaying his hips in rhythm with his own steps.

“Pizza?” He asks, and even if normally you wouldn’t be exactly thrilled at the thought of eating something so greasy at this hour, now you are more than ready.

“And beer?”

“And beer.” He agrees with a laugh, and you want to make him laugh again.

You are not surprised that the place is filled with people, but once again you manage to find a table. It’s a booth and you start your evening off, sitting on both sides of the table, but by the time your pizza arrives, the half of your beer is gone, and so are your barriers, and you are sitting next to him, your bodies touching from knees to shoulders, and he has a arm thrown around your shoulders. You love how comfortable you are like this, and how content he looks, with you in his embrace.

But the most amazing is that you don’t stop talking. One may have thought that by that time you would have run out of the subjects to touch, but the conversation is ever flowing.

It halts a little, when your food comes, but that’s to be expected.

The only thing that slightly rains on your parade (so more like it’s spotting with rain) is the couple you see across the room, that seems to be making out all the time. It’s not like you are disgusted by that or something (maybe a little), but you kind of want to do the same with Jongdae.

Even if two nights ago you weren’t so sure.

But there is a saying that only cow doesn’t change its mind, and you are no cow, so you want to kiss him.

And you know that Jongdae saw them too, because you saw his gaze wandering this way once or twice.

But his behavior doesn’t confirm that he saw the pair. He is as bouncy, and happy as ever, and even if you feel drawn by his demeanor, you are fixated on tasting his lips. Unfortunately, once again, you find yourself in loss for words, and you don’t know how to communicate the need to kiss him.

Because sure as hell, you won’t be the one to initiate the kiss.

You don’t know why you are so opposed to that notion, but you know that you are not going to do that. Period.

Life would be easier if you could at least understand yourself.

He pays for the bill, even if you argue to pay. Or at least to pay for the beers. He brushes you off, and you find that chivalrous, and once again you need to bite back a smile.

The amount of happiness you feel lately is intoxicating.

Once again, he walks you home, his arm finding its place around your waist in a gesture so natural, yet possessive that you feel yourself swooning. Again. You need to get used to that feeling. The way Jongdae shows his possessiveness makes your butterflies dance in your gut. He is playful and boyish, but so sure that you are already his, that you can’t help, but to agree.

So why he didn’t try to kiss you back in the pizza place? Or now, as you walk through the park?

Arriving at your door, with Jongdae on your side is something you want to get used to. You stop in your usual place, few steps from your front door, and you turn around to him, hoping that maybe it’s a time for a kiss? He smiles at you fondly, and he brushes your hair off your face. This gives you enough courage to rest your hand on his nape, his hair soft under your thumb. His smile grows a notch wider and you stand like this looking at each other.

_Kiss?_

Finally Jongdae looks away, and you are close enough to see how his eyes go up, before falling back on your face. _Was that the roll? Did he just rolled his eyes at you?_

“It’s late and tomorrow we need to be on top of our game, so we should get going.” He says, his hand falling down from your face. The butterflies in you start to get rowdy once again, but you follow his suit and your hand leaves his nape. He looks like he does this involuntary, but his free hand lands on his nape, exactly where your fingers have just been.

“Yeah, we should.” You say, your voice strained. _A kiss? What about kiss?_

Now even the arm around your waist is gone, and he puts it in his pocket. He looks more boyish than usually, and painfully uncertain.

“So, see you tomorrow?” He more asks than says, and it looks like his confidence is gone. You nod stiffly and you find yourself walking on auto-pilot.

_Kiss? What about your kiss?_

You open the door, and as you became accustomed to, you look back at him, and he stands there frozen in his spot. You don’t know what prompts you to be brave. His ruffled hair (which wasn’t as tousled just a moment before, it looks like he ruffled his when you had your back to him), or shy smile on his lips, or maybe the dark, yet intent eyes?

“Jongdae…” His tips his head a little up, his eyes staring at your face. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

_Kiss?_

He instantly looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and it makes you nervous as well. But when he starts to speak, his voice is even, but slow, he is trying to convey a message clear enough for you to understand.

“Well… I want to kiss you. I think it was clear enough two nights ago in your kitchen.” He articulates, his finger coming up to point at your windows. You start to feel really stupid. “But you were the one to show me that you don’t want it or that you are not ready.” Really, _really_ stupid. “So I decided to wait for your sign that would tell me that it’s ok for me to kiss you.”

You stopped looking at him somewhere in the middle of his answer. Why do you insist on embarrassing yourself whenever you get the chance?

“And I’m sorry if it looked like I don’t want to kiss you?” The question in his voice is driving the nail home. _God, why did you asked that._ “Because I do. I really do.”

You should be thrilled and swooning at his quite blatant confession, but you are more preoccupied with choosing the quickest possible way to die. Because as you have just checked: you cannot die from embarrassment.

And now Jongdae is calling your name. You should get your shit together and behave as a responsible adult, and not pull this shit on him. So you straighten up and look him square in the face.

“What.”

There goes your maturity. And rest of your sanity. _What the fuck, girl._

Jongdae looks taken aback, and after a short pause in which he looks both scared and amused, he starts to laugh. This sound is strangely calming, and you feel like a burden is off your shoulders – you didn’t offend him.

“God, your face. The face you made just now, that was hilarious.” Oh, so now he is laughing at you. _Great._ “If you could have seen yourself…”

It takes him a few seconds before he can speak again, his laugh contagious, but you do your best to remain neutral.

“Anyway, I want you to know that I do want to kiss you, and I will wait for you. But now we really should get going. See you tomorrow!” And he just starts walking backwards, waving at you. You find yourself raising your hand to wave back.

_A kiss?_

That quiet thought stills you. You still want to kiss him. Even more now, after all that embarrassment (which a mere thought of makes you blush) and knowing that he wants it as well.

“Jongdae.” You call him softly. He has already his back to you, but he hears you and looks over his shoulder. He smiles and waves once again, obviously wanting to go. “What if I want to kiss you?”

That makes him halt. Not abruptly, but he stops walking.

“Now?” He asks, his face not showing any emotion. It kind of feels like he doesn’t want you to confirm it. But you have already lived through the most embarrassing thing that could have happened, so what the hell.

“Yeah.” You say, with your hand clenching around the door handle.

He turns to you slowly, and it physically hurts you to wait for his answer. He looks at you thoughtfully, with his head tipped sideways.

“Then by all means do.”

But neither of you moves. Your blood flows in your ears, humming and drowning out sounds of the night. There is nothing to wake you up from your stupor and you find yourself speaking.

“ And what if I don’t?” You don’t know what prompts you to ask that. Especially when you see him furrow his eyebrows.

“That is also fair, but it would be nice if you decided quickly instead of teasing me.” He sounds tired and not happy, rightfully so, but your heart longs for him. You instantly want to stop his suffering, to soothe him.

And now you feel sure enough to do it. Confident enough. Hearing him say that it’s ok not to kiss him helps you make up your mind.

So you take a tentative step in his direction, your hand slipping from the handle and he observes you warily. At your next step his arms relax slightly, as if he doesn’t know if he is allowed to...

What? Hope?

But you don’t care, your pace increasing with your every step. It’s dramatic, you know that, it’s too much, you know that, but you want to kiss him _so fucking much_ that it comes across as a physical pain.

He doesn’t come to you, but he opens his arms when you are two steps away from him, clearly allowing himself to believe.

You come together with a clash, your hands coming around his neck, finger tangling into his hair, as his hands find your face, tipping your head up.

Even if the way your kiss started, your short dash into his arms, looked as if taken straight from drama, the way you kiss… Is not. It’s not a chaste kiss, not even a no-tongue-open-mouth one.

He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t beat around the bush. It looks like he doesn’t want to wait anymore so immediately you feel his tongue on your lips, and you don’t want to wait either, so you just open your mouth.

He swipes his tongue across inside of your upper lip and after claiming your mouth like that he engages your tongue. You are not passive, you are not still – you indulge him for a moment before sucking his lower lip into your mouth. He groans feeling your teeth on his flesh.

It’s heated, and wet, and _oh, so perfect,_ and you don’t know how long you were standing there making out. It’s not like you are not aware of your surroundings. You hear your neighbors coming and going, you can hear hushed voices as they pass you, but you simply don’t care.

Or maybe a clear thought can’t force itself through your mind clouded with joy so pure it leaves your brain white.

The moment your lungs starts to burn is the moment you need to let go. You wouldn’t want to pass out. You are low-key surprised that you don’t hear a sucking noise when you throw your head back. You open your eyes to look at him.

So _close_.

His eyes are gazed, but he smiles at you, brightly and contentedly. Your chest heaves and it brushes his chest with your every inhale. You greedily suck in gulps of air, and you feel too lightheaded to even move.

He doesn’t look as if he has the same problem. His chest heaves just as much, but one of his hands fall down from your jaw to find itself on the small of your back and he brings you closer to him, while his other hand is still tipping you chin up. He allows you to breathe (very appreciated in your state), but he keeps planting chaste kisses on your lips, just the barest touch of his mouth over and over again.

There are wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, which are nearly completely closed from his visible elation. His nasolabial folds are more prominent than ever, and the perfectly sculpted cheekbones are the nearly piercing his skin. Even his dimples are visible, and you don’t know what to look at. Should it be his eyes? Or maybe moles he has on his face, or maybe the bright smile he sports? It’s hard to choose, so you don’t. Your eyes are scanning his face even as he closes in to peck you again, and your mouth also stretch in an elated smile.

One of your hands leave his nape and you use it to drag your fingers across his face, your fingertips caressing the soft skin, stroking his eyebrows, going down the mount of his nose. It’s not like it’s your first time seeing his face, but it’s definitely the time you get to know it.

Closely and intimately.

He laughs, free and loud sound, coming from his chest. You are rested enough so you come closer to him, once again, and brush your nose along his. The message is clear enough, and the laugh dies on his lips, as he kisses you again.

It’s as hot as the previous one, only this time it’s more controlled (in terms of breathing and saliva), but at the same time more wild, teeth more involved than earlier.

You come apart with lips swollen, and pleasantly hurting. They are already getting chapped and you know that you’ll need to soothe them before going to sleep. You see him swipe his tongue across his upper lip, where you notice a crack.

“You’ll need a lip balm.” You say, your voice hoarse.

“I guess, that hand cream is not enough for you?” He jokes and you just smile. He rests his forehead on yours. You have exactly no problems with being so close to him. “But man, had I known that waiting will result in such a hell of a kiss, I might have waited longer – just to see what I could get from that.”

You look at him unimpressed, not really knowing what to say.

“J _ongdae. What if I want to kiss you?_ ” He imitates your voice and starts to laugh, and you react instinctively and you kick his shin in retaliation.

_Maturity._

“Why are you so brutal?” He whines at you, bent over, with one of his hands rubbing his hurting shin.

Ok, so maybe, you were a little bit too ferocious? But you refuse to feel guilty, even when you can feel your neck getting warm. You refuse to be embarrassed about that.

You don’t know what gave you off, maybe your stiff demeanor or your teeth worrying your lower lip (still pulsing from the heated kiss), but he starts laughing, and straightens up, and easily, naturally, brings you into his embrace. You don’t fight it, your hands instinctively coming up to grab the fabrics on his sides. One of his hands is on the back of your head, the other one is splayed on your lower back. You do like being in his arms, and you certainly like being able to smell him.

“Feeling guilty?” He asks, voice teasing and light.

“No.” You grumble into his shoulder. The humming sound he emits is mocking and you can’t restrain yourself from hitting his ribs, and he roars as if he was a mature lion encouraging its cub to practice hunting (on its parent).

You can’t stand it anymore. It’s all sweet, and cheesy, and you really like being in his arms, and at the same time you don’t want to be laughed at, and you feel pleasant tingling in your gut, when he makes fun of you. But the thing you like the most if feeling his warm body so close to you. It’s comforting and it makes you feel at ease.

But your peace only lasts so much. You feel him raise his arm and how he inhales deeply. That rises alarm in your mind, and you feel tightening in your gut.

“What?” You ask and suddenly you remember asking him the same question not more than an hour ago. Different times.

“It’s so late, I really need to get going if I want to be sober tomorrow.” He says urgently, but you feel it with your whole body that he doesn’t want to leave nor you want to let him go. So you fish out your phone to check the hour.

_Yup, it’s really late._

Once again your mind leaves you, as you focus on his body so close to yours. The feeling of his clothes under your fingers, the soft brush of his breath on your ear and neck, the warmth. Once again your ears are filled with the pulsing sound of your blood, white noise wiping out other sounds. You take  a step back, and you feel how his hands slide on your body, one hand resting on your side, the other one on your neck, his thumb caressing your skin. You are momentarily captivated by his eyes (when will you stop getting lost in his eyes?) and his soft, kitty-like smile.

Maybe his playfully turned upwards corners of his mouth are to blame for what happens next. You find yourself speaking, before you can even notice that you have parted your lips.

“I could lend you my couch?” You leave your mouth open a second more, considering whether you should make a follow up, like explain why it would be profitable for him. But you decide against it when you see that he bites his lower lip, satisfaction clear in his eyes.

“That would be lovely, actually.” You bite the inside of your cheek, not really knowing what to think about the fact that he didn’t give you time to back out of your offer.

And he actually steers you to the door. You decide that his eagerness is cute and amusing (and not creepy). It’s also amusing to watch how he jumps back to being his bouncy and boyish self, talking about all and everything, not really pausing to breathe, as you walk together up your stairs.

Walking in is easy. It’s not his first time inside your apartment, but when shoes are off, you are the one that feels lost.

And he probably feels that because he smiles at you, warm, comforting smile, wrinkles forming around his eyes.

“Couch?” He asks and you laugh, feeling how nervous it sounds.

You don’t have to sleep with him right now. You don’t have time to sleep with him right now. He was ready to wait for your kiss, so he will wait for that too.

He _will._

That wakes you up and you focus on getting your guest ready to sleep. As a good host should. You lead him to your living room.

“Ok, so here is the couch.” You say with a frivolous flick of your hand. He smiles quite absentmindedly, busy looking around the space. You don’t look around with him, there is nothing much actually. Three people couch, armchair, coffee table, carpet, counter, TV and few other tattered pieces of furniture. “You are not really tall, so you should be comfortable.”

Your voice is light and joking, but that gets him to focus on you, or at least on your butt, as a punishing slap lands on it. You yelp and turn around to him, and his eyes are squinted playfully.

“Height is not everything.” Jongdae says, with his eyebrows raised high. You don’t have to strain yourself to feel the innuendo. Which mostly serves you to feel anxiousness creeping up your spine, so you look away, ignoring his remark.

“I will get you pillow and blanket…” You hesitate for a moment. “And I guess a towel and some t-shirt?”

It’s easier on your mind when you have something to do. Like searching for a shirt that would fit him. Which is not that hard considering that every house has some free t-shirts, that come from various events. And you even find a pack of male underwear tucked away in your wardrobe from that one time when you worked a underwear fashion show.

It’s Jongdae who points out you probably have a lot of unisex clothes after you throw him the garments you found. After that he spends a longer while searching among your things for something he could wear the next day.

Which is hilarious, but you are still anxious to just let him snoop around your things, but seeing how he puts everything back in its place, you can feel yourself calming.

The fact that he settles on white jersey with  Bambi on it is beyond you, but that is what it is.

You show him how your shower works, because you know how horrible is getting to know how somebody’s shower works is the worst thing about sleeping over. And it doesn’t matter that he laughs at you and attempts to cradle you in his arms again, murmuring something how sweet you are as a host.

But you are quick enough not to be trapped. You know he is smirking, when you walk out.

After setting up the couch you are left to think and wonder.

Which is not a good thing, since you are getting nervous once again. Debating with yourself, when in few hours you need to work, is not a thing one should do. Because like this you will have problems falling asleep. At the same time, telling yourself that you shouldn’t  do that is not enough, it doesn’t convince your mind, and so: you end up asking yourself whether you are really going to put him on the couch, and go to your bed.

_Will that be it?_

You hear the sound of the door opening and you move from your bed to go to the bathroom. He is wearing your t-shirt and boxers you gave him. His hair is wet and he is attempting to dry it with a towel. He is barefoot and looks comfortable, domestic and exactly where he should be.

He smiles at you and winks, and your heart skips a beat. You smile back at him, and you exhale only when you are safely locked away in your bathroom. You rarely wash yourself at this speed, but you want to go out quickly to see what is going to happen.

Since you decided that you are going to just go with the flow.

Whatever.

If you are going to sleep together, then so you will.

You slow down just before washing off your make-up. You hesitate a moment, before firmly grabbing the remover. Your face wouldn’t be grateful for the night spend with products on.

You throw yourself a last glance, clean, nude face, and t-shirt with shorts. Not exactly a femme fatal, but you are not going to go all out, when you are not even sure what you will do.

He is sitting on the couch, towel drying on the armrest. He has his phone in his hand, charger connecting it to the wall. You are not even surprised.

“Should I set an alarm?” He asks, and looks at you. His eyes quickly skim over your body, but you can’t read them.

“No, I will set it since I will need a longer time in the bathroom in the morning.” It’s a fact and neither of you comments that. Jongdae puts his phone on the coffee table. Nobody speaks and the silence is starting to suffocate you. You shouldn’t be that nervous.

You inhale and you see how his eyes fall to your chest. You are not insulted by that, the opposite in fact, but it’s enough to tell you that you are not going to sleep with him tonight.

Lighter with newly acquired resolution, you smile.

“So, good night.” You say, your hand searching for the switch on the wall. You answers with a broad, relaxed smile and it makes you flutter a little.

“Good night.”

You turn off the lights in the room, feeling ridiculously like camp advisor. After that you walk down the dark corridor and into your room. You slide under your covers and lay there – peaceful.

But even if your mind is peaceful your body is not. You cannot fall asleep, and you don’t even need to check the hour to know that you should be sleeping by now. But you cannot. Mere presence of Jongdae sleeping on the other side of the wall is keeping you up. You know that, even when you tell yourself otherwise.

You try to reason with yourself, that you have a lot to do tomorrow, that you have already decided, that you cannot go back on the word you gave yourself.

Floor is cold under your feet when you finally give up. You don’t know if it’s really chill in your apartment of it’s your emotions that fool you. Nevertheless you walk out of your room, cautious, even if you don’t have to. Your steps are soft and inaudible on the tiles.

You halt in the doorway and once again you hesitate. Just when you manage to talk yourself out of whatever you are planning to do, he stirs on the couch.

You freeze on your spot and your strange resolution is back.

Maybe he is asleep? But there is only one way to check.

Even if you feel ridiculous when choosing the words, you still call out, voice quiet in the darkness.

“Jongdae? Are you asleep?”

Answer comes immediately.

“Yeah.” Voice is muffled, and you are not sure whether you are imagining the hint of irritation in his tone that you hear. That deflates you.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You say quite sheepishly, and take a step back. Your cheeks are burning, but no one will see that since it’s dark and on top of that Jongdae is not even looking at you.

You hear shuffling and couch creaks, but then there is only silence. You don’t sigh, even when you want to. You are not going to live down the embarrassment of facing him tomorrow. And you are going to be exhausted, because you will probably have a sleepless night.

“I could lend you a couch.” His voice is raspy, when it reaches you. You slide back into your living room and you see Jongdae lifting  his blanket. You can’t see his face. “If you are scared to sleep alone, that’s it.”

You can hear the tease in his words, but you decide to ignore it. In mere seconds you are next to him and sliding under the covers.

Jongdae’s arm falls on your side, blankets draping over your body. Your legs naturally entangle with his, and you aren’t repulsed by his hair on your cleanly shaved shins. Quite opposite actually. He smells of your detergent, your shampoo, but nonetheless underneath lingers his distinctive scent.

Being nestled like this in his warm embrace, you need no encouragements to finally fall asleep.

*

Alarm goes off too early. Way too early. Rumbling groan rolls over your head and you can feel its residue in vibrations that shake the body you have thrown your arm across. Last night comes back to you and it doesn’t bring any revelation – the only thing you feel is a pleasant warmth. You only wonder why you have decided to sleep together on your couch, when your bed stayed empty.

Couch dips as Jongdae stretches and he ends his movement bringing him flush against you, his arms holding you still.

Your alarm is still ringing, your phone probably going wild in your room, but pleasant humming sound that Jongdae makes nearly manages to drown it out.

“Let’s stay here.” He mumbles into your hair. You answer with your hand sliding on his back, and your fingers scratching him through his shirt.

Humming noise is back and he shifts slightly, offering his shoulder blades to your fingers.

Which gives you a taste of what it means to wake up next to a guy. You notice, when he seems to be quite oblivious. You are not sure if you should do something about this. Either way you are focused on your hip and the thing that is resting on it.

You can feel yourself spiraling back to your uncertain, doubtful self and you know that’s a sign to get yourself moving.

So you make a brave attempt to sit up. Jongdae can sense it and he flexes his arms to keep you in place. You look up at his face and you see that he has his eyes closed, but he has to fight to keep his face straight, smile pulling on his lips.

 _Childish_.

For a good measure you try again, but his muscles bulge under his skin, and he doesn’t let you go. The alarm dies off, and so does your tries.

You decide on a different approach.

“Jongdae.” You say sternly and he hums to give you a sign that he is listening. “Let me go, we need to get up.”

“Don’t wanna.” He whines. He _fucking_ whines. You didn’t sign up to be a kindergarten teacher.

“Jongdae.” This time he doesn’t even wait for you to reason with him, he just whines. This situation is ridiculous.

But you can’t lie to yourself, it both irritates you and amuses you, and the butterflies in your gut are definitely pleased. And you are getting playful.

When reasoning doesn’t work, and the sheer power is not enough, one is left with cunning tricks. There is a certain risk to that, but you are not going to lose without a fight (even if staying in bed, or couch, with him seems like a wonderful idea). Your hand on his back stills around his shoulder blade and you gather your courage. And then your fingers go straight for his armpit.

There is a yelp and you can confirm, that yes, Jongdae is ticklish. He tries to block the trouble area, but you are persistent. Your struggles quickly turn into a wrestling match, your living room filled with laughter, and yelps, and threats. Couch creaks over and over again, protesting loudly to your wild movements. Blanket is laying forgotten on the floor, but you are quickly warming up, trying to protect the ticklish zones on your bodies.

Alarm rings once again and that stills you both. You cannot say that you won, but you are sitting on him, your fingers entangled with his. Playful, but content smile is adorning his face and you can’t contain the bubbling feeling of happiness. You bend quickly to peck his lips and you sit back before he can react. His eyes squint.

Your alarm is still ringing and you sigh internally. It’s time to get going, so you swing your leg over him and jump to your feet, freeing your hands in the process. You know he is looking at your ass as you walk out of the room. And you have to admit that you like that. And you liked sitting on him, when his morning problem were pocking you in the butt.

You find your phone in your room and turn off the alarm. You haven’t got enough sleep,  but you are energized and ready to start your day. You quickly make your bed and go on to the quite problematic task of picking clothes. Usually you don’t have problems while choosing the outfit for a day, but for the first time there is a question that makes it harder then usually.

_What would Jongdae like?_

It’s not an easy question since you are not sure what type of clothes he likes on a girl, and what should you show. On the other hand you need to choose something comfortable, because you will be running around the whole day, bending over, kneeling, and whatever else will be needed. Finally you decide to wear what looks good on you, and maybe later you will carry out a research to find what Jongdae likes.

Your bathroom visit is mercifully quick, for once makeup is cooperating with you.

You find Jongdae in the kitchen, blanket on the couch already folded. He is already dressed up and you cannot contain your smile at the Bambi on his jersey. He offers you a steaming cup and you like how comfortable he feels in your place.

“I took the freedom to make us coffee.” He says, shrugging a little. In answer you make a show of sampling the hot beverage and his eyes are showing his amusement, but nonetheless they follow you with rapt attention.  Coffee is good, but you are unable to let the occasion slide.

“Well, one day you will live up to my standards.” Ok, so you may have decided to walk past him in this exact moment , expecting a certain behavior.  You will deny it if anybody asks, but you have to bite back a smile, when his hand makes a contact with your butt.

Ok, so you may have here a certain interests you’ll need to work out later.

But nonetheless you act surprised and you shoot him a quick glance. He looks content and you need to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. He doesn’t know he is not a winner here.

“Bathroom.” You just say, and you think that he salutes you before walking out of the kitchen.

Your fridge is mostly empty and you sigh knowing that you have to finally buy groceries. Thankfully you have enough to whip out a quick scrambled eggs with onion and tomatoes.

He comes back just in time to help you set up the table and to slice bread. You decide that you like to have him on your side when cooking.  He is focused on his task, yet he isn’t oblivious to his surroundings, and you start to think that his jokes are endless.

Eating a meal that has been prepared together is always the most satisfying. Even if the dish is as simple as this one. But you think that the company is the factor that makes it one of your best breakfasts.

You can see that Jongdae is also content, because he stretches and moans.

You like the sound.

“God.” He says, looking at you across the table. “I think I love you.”

_What._

_What?_

He is not looking at you, his arms in the air, one hand holding the other’s wrist as he stretches them above his head. His face is scrunched, expression radiating comfort and content.

That irks you. You are smart enough to understand that he said those words as figure of speech. You are mad that he can easily throw the sentence like that, not thinking how his words affects the other person. And at the same time you are not sure if you wanted to hear them for real, or maybe you are relieved that he hasn’t said that he loves you.

Isn’t it too early for confessions like that?

But, maybe you want to hear them. You think you want.

You bite the inside of your cheek to calm yourself, but you feel tormented.

Suddenly Jongdae opens his eyes and winks at you. It takes you by surprise and you are not quick enough to take control of your face, because you can see his happy expression falling.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and that startles you. You stand abruptly, feeling stupid and overdramatic, but you don’t want to face the problem.

“Nothing.” You say, taking his plate. He doesn’t press the topic, also standing up to help you clean the table.

It’s awkward.

Or more like you feel awkward, not really knowing how to behave so he doesn’t question you. Fortunately you don’t have time, as Jongdae notice. The moment you realize how late it is, you don’t bother with washing. Jongdae orders uber and you nearly shove him out of your apartment. He tiptoes nervously behind you, when you fight with the lock. You finally fit in the right key (ignoring quiet muttering behind you – especially when you hear something about putting in) and after the doors are locked, he grabs your hand and together you run down the stairs.

You are late, and you should be stressing about the show, but with his fingers entwined with yours you cannot help but feel the butterflies fly excitedly in your stomach.

You feel adrenaline and rush, when you run together, and you are not sure whether he is it the first to start laughing, or maybe you were quicker? Your ride is already there and you get in, nearly tripping over your own legs. Jongdae is right behind you and he confirms the destination with the driver.

You are out of breath and when you look to your right, you see Jongdae with his face red and chest raising, and your eyes meet and you just burst into laughter.

You can see the driver looking at you curiously in the mirror, but neither of you care. It’s that type of laughter when you cannot stop even when you want to. Even if you calm down, it takes one look to your right to start laughing again. Or the sound of Jongdae laughing is enough to send you back to tears.

After a while you just sit there trying to catch your breath, repeatedly hitting his arm, to make him stop laughing.

 Exhausted, you slump over, laying your head on his shoulder and you love how he automatically leans back and throws his arm around you to make you more comfortable. It’s good, it’s how it should be.

But it seems that it’s not the only thing that Jongdae has in mind, and soon enough he noses your cheek. You look into back mirror and just as you thought, your driver is checking on you. Suddenly embarrassed you peck him and sit straight.

You arrive and Jongdae concludes the transaction. You take a deep breath before getting off, to calm yourself and enter work mode. As soon as you enter the building you get scolded by your assistants for arriving late. You don’t even have time to look at Jongdae before they drag you away.

*

Gossip is an amazing weapon. Sometimes working against you, sometimes working in your favor.

You have yet to decide which of those applies to you, but the thing is: gossip has started, made its way, and miraculously you find yourself in the middle of attention as your female colleagues gush about Jongdae (or not. You heard some hateful comments in the bathroom already, but laughed it off.)

You are sure that for Jongdae, gossip works in his favor. He goes around with his chin high and you caught him few times in a group of guys nodding in your direction with self-satisfaction oozing from his demeanor.

It was hilarious to watch how he shrinks when you decided to come over and ask what they were talking about. Panicked stares and unintelligible babbling was your only answer and you tried your best not to laugh, but it was hard, so you quickly made your escape, winking to Jongdae on your way out.

Yes, gossip could be fun.

“So how was she…” It stops you in your tracks. You are not sure whether you heard it correctly, but with the amount of gossip you hear lately, you are sure that it’s about you, so you turn around to see what Jongdae will say.

It’s not Jongdae, but two technicians. They are startled by your sudden turn, and you feel as if you are going to die from the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” You say and nearly run away, clutching the hangers to your chest, to shield yourself from your embarrassment. This time you are not working with Jongdae, so why have you thought that it’s about you?

_Because you want him to have an answer to that kind of question?_

It has not been that long since you started going out, but it feels like a life time, and you are pretty sure, that you want to take it up a notch.

Especially since the breakfast in your apartment your relationship has not moved forward.

At all.

Which bothers you, but you are not going to repeat your mistake and ask him about that (the ‘kiss’ incident is still very vivid in your mind).

You know that Jongdae has some gig tonight as well, so you don’t call until you finish your work. To say the truth you don’t call at all. You store the clothes with girls and you pack them safely for workers to move them back to the atelier. Some models invite you out to celebratory drink, but you excuse yourself before you decide whether you are going or not, to make a call.

But before you can, Jongdae’s name appears on the screen.

“Hi, waffle!”  He is cheerful, you can give him that.

“Aha, that was nice.” He answers with a pleasant laugh. You smile, dropping your cold act, but he can’t see that.

“How was work?” He asks, and you know that it’s a rhetorical question, because he doesn’t wait for your answer, he just continues. “Have you agreed to go out and get wasted with the rest of the staff?”

You laugh, finding it amazing, how obvious is this industry.

“Not yet. I was wondering whether you have a better offer for me.”

“C-rated movie, Chinese takeout and beer?”

“Oh, how well you know me!” How feign swooning, and you turn around to your colleagues to wave them goodbye. Actually you were nearly certain that you won’t go out with them.

You should step up your social game, because you start to behave as an old, no-fun-ever, bitter worker, but evening with Jongdae is  the most perfect evening.

And tonight you are a woman on a mission.

***

He opens the doors wearing a blue button-up and nice fitted pants. You don’t stare.

But you definitely swoon inside, with the accompaniment of your faithful butterflies. They are definitely more vocal about his narrow hips looking perfect in this outfit. The fact that it’s the first time you see him wearing something a touch more formal than his casual style, makes you appreciate this more.

Shorts are not always a way to go.

But his smile is as playful as ever.

He leans on the frame of the door and opens his mouth to speak up.

You don’t even need to hear what he’ll say to know that it’s going to be cheesy. And probably creepy.

“You look sophisticated, don’t ruin that by opening your mouth” you say, before he gets a chance, and you greet him with a quick peck on the corner of his mouth to sweeten cutting him off. He laughs as you slide past him into his apartment.

It’s your first time here, and this sudden though stops you, but only for a moment. You are here now, so there is no problem.

You take of your shoes, noticing that the floor was definitely vacuumed. Quick glance at Jongdae confirms that he is quite nervous about you being here.

And you like finally not being the one that is anxious.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asks and you need to bite back your smile. _That’s adorable._

“Well, I was promised beer.”

“Right.” He laughs. “I’ll fetch it and you can look around, or just go the living room?” There is a question in his voice, and you wave him off.

“I’ll look around. You know how curious I can be” you say with a laugh. He joins in your laugh and you notice how he keeps his hands to himself. Totally different person. He  is clearly reluctant to go, but finally you see him disappearing in the room that supposedly is kitchen.

His place is nice, and clean, but it lacks personal touch. You can see that here lives someone, but you’ll have hard time describing that person.

Or maybe he cleaned the place that well?

His bathroom is small and nearly empty – but you guess that guy doesn’t need a lot of products. Or maybe he hid them, and you are not going to snoop around. Especially when you want to see his bedroom.

_C’mon._

His bedroom is as nondescript as the rest of the place. There is a desk with his laptop, and white wardrobe. There is a comfy looking bed in the middle of the room and that would be it. You look around, searching for some sign that he indeed lives here, and you sit down on his bed. It’s more because of the instinct than a planned action.

It is comfortable.

Jongdae finds you like this, and walks to you to give you a bottle of bear. It’s open, so you take a first sip, looking up to see him.

“So. Movie?” He asks with a straight face and you nod. You don’t let yourself feel disappointment.

He leads you to his living room and it’s more cozy than you suspected, but nonetheless impersonal. You are pleasantly surprised to see the takeouts already there, and you slide down on the couch, hopefully gracefully.

“So! What are we watching?” You ask, but you are immediately distracted by Jongdae’s frame. He is talking, you are sure he is, but he is at the same time walking to the player, and you like how he moves. You like his shoulders, filling his shirt nicely, and his hips, and his calves perfectly visible in his fitted trousers.

_So what was the title again?_

You don’t get around to ask that question, deciding to wait and see for yourself. If it’s really c-rated movie there is a chance that you won’t want to remember the title anyway.

Couch dips as he sits next to you, handing you a box and a chopsticks as the movie starts.

Well, the truth is, you don’t even watch it. Between eating, drinking bear, and marveling at your boyfriend you don’t have enough attention left to focus on the TV set. Especially from the moment Jongdae decides to roll up his sleeves.

You are gone.

Simply and surely, and you put your food back on the coffee table, because you won’t eat anymore. And to your dismay, you are still sitting weirdly apart.

To counter that you twist in your seat, leaning on the armrest with your beer safely in your hand, and you look at Jongdae, just as he raises his hands with his food – a clear invitation. So you take it, and you throw your legs across his thighs. Jongdae simply puts his box on your shins, and you find it heartwarming how much he trusts you.

You continue to sip your beer, trying to watch this monstrosity Jongdae has chosen for tonight, but it’s hard. At least for you. Your man is positively captivated.

It’s not a situation you like, but you dutifully wait for him to finish his food. You try not to wiggle too much and be a nice tray, but when he ends his meal and asks about your leftovers, you feel cheated.

But you let him eat it as well.

You are not sure whether he did this on purpose, but he is still engrossed with the thing you are watching, so you cannot even check your suspicions. That is: until he finishes your box and puts empty container on the coffee table and sends you a playful side glance. Happiness explodes in your gut, because you know what is coming, even before his left hand lands on your knee. Even before his right hand finds the surface of the couch, and before he leans in to kiss you.

It’s a lazy kiss, tasting of stir-fry. You lose yourself in it, eyes closed and arms around his neck holding him close. The movie is playing in the background, but neither of you care. You bring back your left leg, and wedge it between his body and a couch, and he gets the sign. He promptly fits himself between your open legs, and with encouraging tug of your arms on his neck he lays down on top of you.

In the beginning he tries to keep his body up, not squishing you and keeping his hips away from your body, but you are relentless, starting to use your body weight to make him fall on you.

_Is it that weird that you want to feel his weight on top of you._

Jongdae grunts and clears his throat. You open your eyes to see what is the problem.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” His voice is strained. You laugh, because the love for that man is filling you up.

“I know what I’m doing” you say scratching his nape with your nails. From the slowly raising hair on his skin you conclude that he likes that.

“Do you?” He asks with an unfamiliar tone in his voice. You tip your head to the side, and show him a crooked smile, while humming approvingly in the back of your throat. Your hands find the upper button on his shirt and you surge forward to kiss him, while your fingers pop it open.

“Yeah, I do.” You confirm against his lips and the smile that you get in answer is blinding. He finally lets go of his restraints and lays on top of you. He is heavy, you are not going to deny that, but his weight is both comforting and arousing. So is his erection, now against the back of your thigh.

He kisses you again, as your fingers pop open the next button. You get to open the third one before he grabs your wrists and leads your arms to fall on his neck. So you do that, tightening the hold, and pushing your chest up, against his. His hands slide under your body, and he hold you close. It’s intimate and you love that.

That is until his hold goes stiff, and his knee falls on the couch just below your butt and he cradles you in his arms, and using his knee as a leverage he picks you up. Sudden movement and the lack of the surface behind your back startles you and you compensate that by gluing yourself to his body, legs coming up to close behind his sacrum.

“I should have done that before eating.” He complains straightening up. He adjusts his hold as you sputter.

“Romantic.” You sigh sarcastically, and he smiles as he starts walking. You find the crooked corners of his smile irresistible and you kiss one of them.

“I am romantic. I’m carrying you to the bed, right?” You nod dutifully and he looks extremely pleased. You like him just like that.

You reach his room, and he walks the last few steps a notch quicker than earlier. Neither of you comments on that, and he tries to lay you on his bed, but he loses his balance and together you fall on the mattress. It kicks the air out of your lungs, but as soon as you take a breath, you start laughing. Jongdae doesn’t join in this time.

“I wanted our first time to be on the bed.” He say to justify his actions. But he doesn’t need to.

“That’s lovely!” You say cheerfully, tease clear in your voice.

“We will warm up to the sex on the couch or whatever.”

“Lovely.” You comment, again sarcastic, but he seems to be oblivious to your disgruntlement, or at least he acts like it, kissing you – probably to stop you from speaking again.

Whatever its purpose was you are perfectly content to let him have his way, and you kiss him back. Your fingers go back to opening his shirt and soon enough you are pushing the fabrics off his shoulders. Dark skin is smooth under your fingertips and you don’t hesitate to break the kiss so you can swipe your tongue across the mount of his shoulder. His skin is salty and, yup, you definitely love the taste.

Jongdae shrugs off the shirt just when you bite his neck. He moans, it’s a long sound, reverberating in your bones and you answer with a breathless sound coming out of your throat. He quickly takes off your top, and caught in the sudden drive of adrenaline and rush, you make a quick work of taking your bra.

Your man is immediately distracted by your breasts. It’s good, you’d probably walked out if he wasn’t. It’s almost like a child-like wonder – he takes them into his palms, pushing them up with the heels of his hands, and slowly, deliberately, closing his fingers around the flesh. Your hips come off the mattress, but it’s a controlled move, you just want to rub yourself on his body.

Your clothed crotches meet and your eyes flutter close, so you can relish the warmth between your legs and he takes his chance, his teeth closing hard around your jugular. Your mouth fall open in the surprised wail and you feel the surge of wetness between your legs.

“You like that.” It’s a statement. And he probably doesn’t know that he has spoken up, but his teeth once again sink into your skin, this time on the junction between your neck and shoulder. Your toes curl and you moan brokenly surprised how the pain of the bite turns you on.

And it turns Jongdae on as well, since you hear a broken prayer coming from his lips, and his hands start to frantically fight with your fly. Your own hands come down to help, but it’s not easy, your body delirious as well. You finally manage to open it, but taking off the skin tight jeans is a nightmare and you give up on Jongdae’s help, and you roll around the bed trying to peel them off. In the same time he undresses himself and leaps to the nightstand to get the condom.

At least you conclude that from the small package landing next to you. Finally your jeans come off and you throw them triumphantly on the floor.

Only then you notice that you are finally naked on Jongdae’s bed. And Jongdae is equally naked, standing next to his bed. He looks gorgeous. Not that you are going to tell him that, but the dark skin dotted with rare moles, distinct lines of the muscles, faint hair leading your eyes to his cock, already dark with blood and clearly showing how turned on he is.

He takes this little break to marvel at your body, you know that, and that’s exactly how that should work. Fast and hard is nice, but appreciating is definitely more gratifying.

But enough is enough, and you sit up reaching for him, simultaneously to him reaching for the condom. Your heart doesn’t like his priorities, but your mind certainly appreciates them. He pats the edge of the bed invitingly and you are curious.

You kind of supposed that you’d do it with his body on top of yours, but it seems like Jongdae has something different in his mind. And it arosuses you – the fact that he exactly knows what he wants. As if he was imagining it, as if he had a perfect image of your first time in his head.

Has he jerked off to this idea?

You’d like that.

You’d really do.

You scoot down on the bed, your butt reaching the place he marked with his hand, and you are sure that’s just your imagination, but you can feel the residue of his warmth there. He tears open the package and rolls the condom on – standing there and sliding his hand down his shaft to fit it right. And then just to spite you.

“I want to look at your face when we have sex.” It sounds both unnatural and so _fucking_ right in his mouth. You moan quietly, his voice caressing your naked skin, your hair raising and new surge of wetness appearing between your legs. Your breath is getting shallow, and you have yet to do something.

To _feel_ something.

“I want to see your face, when you’ll come apart under my hands.” He is just stating it, his voice just a little lower than usual, and definitely more throaty. You can feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes – it’s your arousal taking over. “I want to feel your muscles cramping around me, and your nails sinking into my back. I want to take you.”

How can he say such a cheesy line with his face straight. And _how_ can you find it arousing.

You bend your legs at the knees, your feet finding their support on the edge of the bed. Quick “then by all means take” thrown his way makes him move. He falls down to his knees, his hands finding your hips, and he finally, finally, but oh, so slowly, slides into you. Its infuriatingly slow and you groan, your eyes closing, because you want to focus on the glorious feeling of Jongdae finally having you. Taking you. Loving you.

His hips make contact with your thighs and you take a shaky breath. It happened. It has finally happened, and Jongdae is bending forward, planting a warm kiss between your breasts. Your fingers brush his hair out of his eyes, and you caress the side of his face. You think you can feel him pulsing inside you, your walls fluttering in the anticipation and deliberate tightening of your pelvic floor muscles.

He looks at you, his eyes wide open, and already going out of focus, as if he was living a dream. And he is. You’ll make him believe that.

“Get to it.” You groan, your nails scratching his nape.

He does.

He doesn’t start slow, he starts with the forceful, but rhythmic thrusts and your hips raise at every pointed thrust, the pleasure curling your toes. Soon enough you are covered in perspiration and your hands are balled into fists on his sheets. His nails are sinking into the skin on your hips, and the pain adds an edge to your pleasure and it makes you vocal. You wail, you groan, you moan, you curse, you plead – none of it is coherent, but every sound is earnest and unabashed, and you can see how his eyes are shining as he is looking at your writhing body.

“Jesus, girl.” He moans when he delivers a particularly hard thrusts and your walls cramp around him, vice-like hold trying to keep him inside you. You laugh between your moans, feeling lightheaded and free, and one of your hands come down and your fingers clench around his wrist.

The first time his name leaves your lips he stutters and groans, his head falling on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin. Your answering moan is broken and high-pitched and you throw your other arm around his neck keeping him close.

That’s when his thumb attacks your clitoris. You gasp, the pleasure so intense, so blissful that your vision fails you, going completely blank. Your body goes rigid, electric shock freezing your synapses, overpowering every other movement, switching off your brain. Your whole being is focused on Jongdae between your legs, on Jongdae who knows exactly what he is doing, on Jongdae snapping his hips just right, on Jongdae stimulating your clitoris, on Jongdae’s dick catching on your entrance and putting pressure on the front wall, on Jongdae biting into your neck. You suffer, you cry, you lose all your power, and you don’t realize that you hit your orgasm until it’s over.

And Jongdae is still taking you, desperately seeking his own pleasure. His eyes are fixed on you, his mouth sputtering constant prayer and profanities, and every so often your own name.

He throws his head back as he comes, and you can see how his face goes slack. Warm feeling fills you up, the butterflies in you definitely sated.

Later you lay together in his bed, condom discarded, but you are still sticky from the sweat. It’s comfortable, just laying together, not even cuddling (because you’ve decided that you should take shower, but none of you is capable enough to go), and you stare at the ceiling, completely sated and satisfied. And happy.

Suddenly Jongdae starts laughing, so you turn your head to look at him. He is staring at the ceiling as well, his hair matted to his forehead.

He doesn’t look at you, but he senses your stare, because he opens his mouth.

“ _Jongdae, what if I want to kiss you?”_ His imitation of your voice has gotten better, you have to admit that. But you haven’t matured at all, so you push him of the bed.

Butterflies cheer to the happiness filling you up.


End file.
